Channelling my inner Garbo?

 News of the reopening of The Shop must have spread. I sold another four jars of honey today and only need to shift another twenty one before I am in profit.*

The weather today was vile; cold and windy, and I only ventured outside for essential tasks. These included poultry management** and taking the dogs out for a pee. My only other achievement was that I finished the bottling of the honey and a total of fifty seven  8oz jars have been produced.

The rest of the day was leisurely. I read, snoozed and watched a little television. This evening we were joined by Bubbles and Bobbyn and we shared a takeaway from China Twon, before settling to a game of Cards against Humanity.

If I am honest, my heart really wasn't in it. I felt somewhat detached and disengaged, but could find no reason for feeling that way. I really would have preferred a quiet evening at home with 30% and the dogs.

As it says in the title of today's Journal entry perhaps I just vanted to be alone? 

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* I know that I am already in profit because of the money made on the buckets of honey I bought in September, June and April. Clearly I am talking about quarterly figures here.

** This sounds like I am doing something complicated. In real terms I give them clean water, put their feeder in the run and let them out of their coop. I then scuttle back to the warmth of the house.

Like hot cakes

My little road-side stall is known by the grandiose title; The Shop. One of the first jobs this morning was to re-stock The Shop and set it up outside the gate.*  In less than an hour our first jar of honey had been sold and I am hoping to shift more product to the New Year walkers.

I left The Shop to run itself, as 30% had volunteered our services to ferry TP to the airport ... he will be spending the New Year in Dublin. 

As we drove back from Birmingham, 30% suggested a short detour and we paid a visit to Becketts Farm Shop. One of my birthday presents was a pork butchery course and we spent a few minutes chatting with the butcher who runs the course. We now need to make some space in our freezer as the price of the course also includes the half pig that I will be butchering.

It was getting close to lunchtime so we had a light lunch at the on-site cafe, and also took a wander around Shirley Aquatics. We both love aquariums and, at some point in the future, we have promised ourselves that we will have another aquarium. The challenge will be getting it to coordinate with the decor of an eighteenth century half timbered cottage.

On our return I checked The Shop and was happy to find that another three jars had been sold. This prompted me to get another batch of honey to melt in the water bath, before I settled on the sofa for a snooze. 

Over the course of the afternoon I got two batches of honey filtered and bottled and my running total is forty one 8oz jars. I have finally worked out that my markup is about 112%. The means that I need to shift twenty nine jars before I'm making a profit.

It had better keep selling like hot cakes.

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* I ran out of honey at the beginning of December around the time Storm Darragh blew in.  The Shop was brought in off the verge and it has taken until now to get another bucket of honey from Pete. In the intervening weeks we have spent a lot of time at the front of the cottage dealing with the fallen/felled conifer, and a surprising number of passersby have asked when the honey will be on sale again.

My God! I've actually done something today.

On Friday evening Bubbles persuaded me to attend a small monthly clay shoot out at Childswickham. He has been chuntering on about it for a few months, so I finally gave in and agreed to attend.

This morning saw me out early. I would have said bright and early, but we had a leaden sky and the wind had a nasty nip. I picked up Bubbs in Evesham and we then headed over to Broadway to collect Ben. A few minutes later we pulled up on a verge on the outskirts of Childswickham and wandered down a farm track to the clay shoot.

I'm glad I'd kept my anticipation levels to a minimum as this was definitely nothing other than a haybaler.* I was presented with a row of traps along a the edge of a couple of fields and a pair of scruffy caravans that were the "shoot office". 

The morning was inexpensive and the clays were challenging, but I was underwhelmed by the experience and my spider senses detected that the chair and committee had established a club and shoot that was managed and controlled way beyond the level it needs to be.

Apparently my membership needs committee approval, after attending three shoots as a guest. To be honest, I don't give a shit whether they approve me, or not.

I was home by midday and thawed out about an hour later ... just in time for 30% and I to venture outside and clear the drainage gulley across the front gate. 

I then retired back inside and managed to filter and bottle a couple of batches of honey over the course f the afternoon. Today's output was 9lb, 8oz, which will be going on sale tomorrow.

I should also mention that TP's best friend Charles turned up and we had an initial planning session for a motorcycle trip through France and Belgium and on to the Black Forest. All being well, we should be going sometime in June or early July.

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* A small informal clay pigeon shoot. The term is derived from the shield of straw bales that are used to protect the trap operator from stray shots. Nowadays clay traps are automatic and are triggered by a hand-held remote control in the stand. Many years ago a trap operator needed to sit by the trap, listen for the call; "PULL", release the clay in to the air, and reset the trap for the next shot.

Ongoing inactivity

 The Christmas inertia continued today.

I did manage to replace the reflector on the rear corner of the Defender and, surprisingly, it took longer to fit a self-adhesive reflector than it did to replace both the indicator and the fog light.  I had to use a heat gun to remove the original adhesive strip and there was much faffing around with T-cut and alcohol spray to clean off the residue. I also had to give it a couple of considered whacks with a panel beating hammer to straighten the panel. before I could apply the new reflector.

Not a lot else was achieved, although Beekeeper Pete called in and exchanged a 30lb bucket of honey for £70 Stirling.  It looks like a) I'll be bottling honey for the next few days and b) my little roadside stall will be open for business again!

Roll on twelfth night

I am mired in that dreadful dead zone between Christmas and the New Year.  The house remains decorated and the kitchen is still crammed with food. It almost seems as if one is obligated to veg in front of stale TV offerings, or mingle with friends and relatives. It makes me feel quite constrained.*

I am glad that the Big Day is over and, within a few short days, the food will be gone, the cards will be taken down and normal life can resume. You see, the thing is, I really like my normal life.  I don't need the excuse of a Christian celebration to have a good time. I have a pretty good time most days. Roll on twelfth night.

Over the past few days the components for the Defender have trickled in and over the past couple of days I have fitted the indicator and fog light. It's a bloody good job I've fitted the latter as we have been blanketed in thick fog over Christmas and Boxing Day. I really wouldn't have wanted to drive without a working rear fog light.

This evening we were joined by Bubbles and Bobbyn for supper. Gifts were exchanged and we had a lovely time. We'll be seeing them again on New Year's Eve ... I think it will be a traditional Chinese takeaway from China Twon.

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* I remember one year, possibly 2009, I decorated the smallest bedroom in the interval between Christmas and the New Year.  Apparently, based on the reaction of 30%, it was not the done thing to make good use of the holiday.

Now we can relax

I was up before most of the household, although I could hear Mr & Mrs Tweedy having an early morning cuppa in their room.

After a couple of cups of coffee I wandered up to the orchard and let out the chickens. On my return I gazed at the kitchen which looked more like the worst parts of Syria and Gaza than a room for preparing food. I couldn't cope with the mess, so sleeves were rolled up and order was restored. It took the best part of an hour, but 30% was well impressed when she eventually wandered downstairs.

We all sat down to a late breakfast which extended in to elevenses, so the Christmas carrot cake was finally sampled ... it is quite fabulous; rich, most and indulgent with that cream cheese icing. Mr & Mrs Tweedy left shortly before lunch and we did little else for the rest of the day.

The ham finally got sliced in the evening and I think 30% brought out every pickle in the house as a potential accompaniment! There was TP's lime pickle, my own pickled beetroot and beetroot chutney plus a range of commercial chutneys and pickles. 

It tastes divine!

I think I just seasoned it lightly. It was far too good to overpower with pickle!

Christmas Eve

Obviously the plan for today was to ensure that the house was tidy and that all Christmas preparations were complete ... well, it's fair to say that most of the Christmas preparations were completed ... the critical ones anyway. As for an orderly and clean domestic environment that'll have to wait until tomorrow morning.

This is how the day panned out.  First activity this morning was to get the honey roast ham* on to platter, covered and in the refrigerator. I then bagged up and froze the water it had been cooked in, as it makes the most fantastic pork stock ... perfect for soups.

I then continued with general clearance activities until 30% asked me if I had received my tax rebate. I had a few minutes to spare, so I checked ... My account balance was not as magnificent as expected, as the buggers at His Majesty's Revenue & Customs had clearly failed to hand over my cash. I ten spent ten minutes going round in circles with the HMRC on-line help before picking up the phone. I then spent thirty minutes talking to a lovely lady in Glasgow and, after much fiddling with my tax record, it looks like I should get my rebate in the next couple of weeks.

As I finished speaking to HMRC, Bobbyn turned up and we took the dogs for a walk down the lane. At this time of year the lanes are disgusting and the dogs were filthy by the time we returned. Fortunately TP was on-hand to assist with washing and drying the mutts, and they were soon settled in their beds.

In the afternoon I finally wrapped my Christmas gifts and then had a massive kip. For some strange reason I was absolutely exhausted and didn't feel much better on waking. 

Final task of the day was to ice the Christmas carrot cake. I eventually decided to go with my original cream cheese icing recipe and the resultant masterpiece is now taking up a lot of space in the fridge.

Christmas cake is nice,
but Christmas carrot cake is really nice

30% and I had planned to wander down the lane to join in the carol service on the village green. However we were both so exhausted that we settled for sausage and mash on our knees in front of the TV and an early night.

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* Honey Roast Ham

• Place the ham in a large lidded saucepan - I use a stock pot or jam kettle
• Cover with water and add 3 peeled and coarsely chopped onions, two or three sticks of chopped celery, three or four sliced carrots, a few black peppercorns and half a dozen bayleaves.
• Boil the ham for about 35 minutes per kilo
• Once cooked, transfer the ham to a roasting pan
• carefully remove and discard the skin
• score the fat in a diamond pattern and insert a clove in to each of the diamonds
• Once the ham has been studded with cloves, gently sprinkle and rub in a few handfuls of soft brown sugar
• trickle over half a jar of good quality honey and place it in a fan oven pre-heated to 170℃
• After about twenty minutes, baste the ham with the juices that have collected in the pan and pour over the remaining honey
• continue to bake for about another twenty minutes until the ham is a beautiful golden brown

Mmmm!

Sixty One

Today is my birthday. It's not the best time of year to celebrate one's anniversary, as there is a somewhat all encompassing Commercial/Christian event that tends to happen about this time too!  This year I promise that I won't witter on about it. If you want to see how I feel about Christmas, or my birthday, use the search bar.

So how did today go? After the early morning chores we headed over to the Oak at Upton Snodsbury and had a very pleasant breakfast at their Twisted Spoon cafe.

30% and I then headed in to Alcester to pick up a few items from the Supermarket, and to pay a visit to Specsavers. 30% has decided that she needs a pair of varifocal specs following her cataract surgery.  She soon had a pair sorted and, on impulse, I decided that varifocals might be beneficial for me too, as I find it a real pain to identify the car controls without my reading glasses. Unfortunately I can't drive in my reading glasses ... that would be disastrous! The net result is that we both should have new specs early in the New Year.

The afternoon was taken up with a lengthy kip and another birthday tradition. Every year I prepare a honey roasted ham for the Christmas period, and the late afternoon and early evening were taken up with boiling and roasting of a six kilo gammon joint. 

This evening's dinner was provided courtesy of TP. He cooked a rather interesting Malaysian spiced mutton stew. 

So that was my birthday, nothing huge happened, but I had a lovely day. Cards and gifts were opened and it looks like I might be riding my old Enfield up the Shelsey Walsh Hill Climb course in July and also attending a pork butchery course later in the year too.

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* or, if you are privileged to have access to the printed version of the Journal, take a look at the December entries in earlier volumes. 

A new Christmas/Birthday tradition?

 I was up early again today as Bubbles, Ben and I had arranged to go Pike Fishing.  This is looking like it will become a Christmas tradition for us after our first outing for my birthday in 2023.

Anyway, back to today. By eight o'clock the Defender was crammed with rods and tackle and a hastily prepared packed lunch was  thrown on to the passenger seat. I was soon trundling down the road to Barton over the recently repaired Bidford Bridge.*

The river was very high as a result of recent rain and our original plan to fish below Barton weir had to be abandoned. In the end we found a peg by the little marina and eventually settled to fish. The skies were clear and blue, but there was a cold wind. Our hands were freezing and the simplest task was challenging with numb fingers. Attaching a wire pike trace to monofilament line in the cold windy conditions was akin to attempting microsurgery whilst off-roading. As for attaching dead bait to the trace, that was equally tricky.

Eventually we got our bait in the water and spent an agreeable few hours talking nonsense and failing to catch anything at all. A little after midday the skies darkened and a cold rain started to fall. That was the perfect excuse for us to pack up and head home to thaw out.

So that was Sunday. I did manage to guess what my birthday present was from Bubbles within 30 seconds of being handed it.** I should point out that this is an ongoing competition and I am currently winning on points!

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* A grade 1 listed 15th Century bridge. It is single lane and is the only crossing of the Avon between Evesham and Welford-on-Avon. It is regularly closed for repairs as a result of damage by vehicles that are far too large to use it. This Autumn's closure was as a result of an Uber driver that, somehow, managed to wedge his car between the parapets of the bridge.

** It is a wrapped cylinder; 6" in diameter and about 48" in length. Obviously a fishing umbrella!

That's bloody annoying!

 I was up and out early this morning as Bubbles had persuaded me to take part in the Christmas Shoot at Cotswold Shooting Ground. I met up with Bubbs, Bobbyn and Ben just before nine o'clock and we were smashing clays not long after. The wind, my lack of talent and not having shot since early August made many of the targets challenging, but I was reasonably pleased with my score of 39/80.

Back at home I lunched with TP and then headed over to the local feed supplies store to pick up a couple of wire traces ... we have planned a pike fishing outing for tomorrow.

On my return I found that all of the parking spaces on the drive had been taken up by TP, 30% and Jules. I attempted to park considerately, so that Jules could get her car off the drive and ended up reversing the Defender in to the gate.

Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck! The gate is fine, but I have managed to smash the rear indicator, the rear fog light and a rear reflector. There is no paint damage although there may be a minor bend at the rear corner ... nothing that a gentle tap with a soft hammer can't restore.

I then needed to spend a happy hour scouring the internet for replacement parts and, as it says in the title of today's entry, I found the episode fucking annoying.

Next time I'll leave the damned thing in the middle of the drive and the fuckers can move it themselves when they want together out.

Can't be bothered

 Not a lot to report for today. 

I have to admit that, the closer it gets to Christmas, the more unenthusiastic I feel. It may be the result of a very busy Autumn, followed by a quite energetic holiday, a case of food poisoning and dealing with a fallen tree, but I am now at the point where I really can't be arsed to do anything!

I had two things on my virtual to do list for today. Both were Alcester based activities. First was a trip to Screwfix to pick up a Christmas present for TP, then I popped in to the butchers in search of a gammon joint. Fortunately I found the perfect joint and this will be boiled and honey roasted in the next couple of days.

And, as for the rest of the day; the weather was cold, drizzly and grey and I really could not be bothered to do anything other than curl up and finish my book.* At one point I did head outside with good intentions, but demotivation struck very quickly and I was soon back on the sofa.

TP arrived home just before seven o'clock and will be here, intermittently,** until twelfth night.

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* Masquerade by Terry Pratchett

** Diverse socialising, a visit to his Mother and a New Year in Dublin to name but a few of his planned activities

Warning!

 Do not walk in to your wife's favourite independent jeweller at this time of year without having a clear Christmas gift idea.

I've warned you. Just don't!

That'll do

 I wandered out to the remnants of the fallen conifer with every intention of splitting the last couple of sections of tree trunk. However, after a frustrating hour I gave up. I had managed to split off a few more logs, but the last few chunks of wood had contorted grain patterns and just wouldn't break apart.

I suppose I could borrow a log splitter, but that seems like a lot of effort for a dozen more logs, at best. If I take a step back and look at the large heap of split wood and the few unsplit chunks then "that'll do".

I did very little for the rest of the day apart from a visit to the local surgery for my annual diabetic review. They seem quite happy with my results with great scores for blood pressure* and cholesterol, as always I could do with loosing a few pounds.**

After more than fifty years as a type 1 diabetic,  I still have good eyesight and can still feel a feather on my feet ... I'm doing ok.

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* for someone my age

** few!

I've had enough now

 I'm getting somewhat bored with the conversion of a fallen tree in to firewood and also the documentation of the aforementioned activity. Christ knows how anyone reading this feels about it?

So, guess what I did this morning? Yep, I was out on the front lawn with the saw horse, splitting maul and chainsaw. I spent the morning dealing with the last few sections of the tree. By lunchtime I was both bored and tired and decided to call it a day. There are still a couple of sections of the trunk that need splitting, but they are filled with large knots. I know that they will be an utter pig to split and it's just not worth hiring a log splitter for the last few pieces of wood. I think that they will be a nice addition to a bonfire at some point next year.

As I type this the garden and verge are now relatively clear of storm debris.  There is a large pile of mulched conifer on the verge and the corner of the front garden is home to a large pile of split logs.  The stump and attached root ball protrude from the lawn at a jaunty angle, but they can bloody stay there until the weather improves ... if I'm honest, I don't really have a plan, but Grubby Jason mentioned the possibility of coming over with a tele handler in the Summer and lifting the stump out.

That's better than anything I can come up with and "NO, I'm not digging the hole out for a pond!"

Nearly finished

The verge at the front of the cottage looks relatively clear now the conifer brash has been shredded, and piled up on our boundary with the neighbouring field.

However we are left with a pile of branches ranging in diameter from three to eight inches. Today I brought out the chainsaw and saw horse and spent a good part of the day converting them in to logs. I also discovered a few sections of tree trunk, so the splitting maul was also brought in to play. The last couple of hours of the afternoon were spent splitting the larger logs in to manageable chunks.

30% was on-hand to assist with the removal of the logs. These are now stacked in one of our log stores and they should dry out over the next few months.

By the end of the afternoon the front verge is now free of debris, with just the pile of chipped confer the only evidence of a fallen tree. Tomorrow will see me back in the front garden to split and saw the last few sections of trunk.*

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* I am not looking forward to this task. These are large, knotty sections that I had already attempted to split last Wednesday. If they didn't split after a couple of assaults with the maul, they were cast aside on to a pile of rejects. I now have no excuse, but to persevere with these awkward , bloody things!

One step forward ...

... two steps back.

I must admit that this is how things feel at the moment. The tree that fell last Saturday and the bloody mess left behind by the drainage contractors have left us with a lot of work to do. The thing is that we can find plenty to occupy ourselves without have the unexpected and the badly managed dump more on our plate.

I'm not really complaining. I know that the mess in the garden will be rectified and recover in a few months and that we are capable of dealing with the fallen tree. I just wish that sometimes we could amble towards Christmas in a leisurely fashion, rather than have a heap of non-festive things to do.

I appreciate that there has been no Journal entry since Thursday, so here's a quick summary of what I've been up to.

Friday, 13th December, 2024

Well, considering the date, today went reasonably smoothly. 

By nine o'clock I had the pressure washer connected up and spent a good half an hour cleaning the thick layer of mud from the path to the front door and the worst of it from the drive. We can now let the dogs out without them returning caked in filth. 

The mini excavator and dumper truck were collected and their removal left another scattering of clay across the drive. 30% applied herself to this and did a damned good job, considering the state of the drive. We both agreed that we really need to properly clean the block paving as soon as the weather improves.

The rest of the day was spent processing the brash from the fallen conifer.  After Sunday's tree felling we ended up with a huge pile of brash on the verge outside the cottage. The pile was about 40' in length, 8' wide and chest high. The day was spent cutting this in to manageable lengths, and stacking it in preparation for the arrival of the chipper.

We were hoping that the chipper would arrive early so that we could make a start on the brash, but it was near dark before the little green monster was delivered. Oh well, we'll be nice and fresh to make an early start tomorrow.

Saturday, 14th December, 2024

It will come as no surprise that we spent a good chunk of today feeding conifer brash in to the chipper. I also think we provided some form of entertainment for the dog walkers and riders that passed by.

We needed to pace ourselves as we had arranged to meet up with B&H in Worcester this evening for a meal at a Greek restaurant. As a consequence we worked until three o'clock and then called it enough for the day. We had quite an impact on the pile of brash and I estimate that we will get it finished by lunchtime tomorrow ... provided that we get to bed at a reasonable time.

We had a lovely evening with great food and great company. We also finalised the dates for our next narrow boating holiday and 30% will get that booked early next week. We plan to do the Mid-Worcestershire ring in the week lead up to Good Friday, 2025.

Sunday, 15th December. 2025

It was another early start and we fed the last of the brash in to the chipper shortly before lunch. We are both relieved to have reduced a mountain of brash to a large pile of shredded material. Several passers-by have expressed an interest in taking some of this mulch, so hopefully that will disappear in the next few days. The larger tree limbs will need to be sawn and split, but that too can wait until later in the week. 

The only other thing of import was that I gave the bees another pack of candy each. I took a quick peep under to the hive roofs on Friday and each has consumed the best part of a kilo of candy in the past six weeks. I must remember to check again towards the end of January to ensure that they don't go short of food.

As mentioned, we had finished shredding the brash by lunchtime and we both indulged ourselves with a huge afternoon kip. We still have work to do, but the pressure is off. All of the smaller branches have been shredded and we have no further need of the chipper ... until the contractors come to remove the conifer in the orchard that is too close to our electricity supply.

That's quite enough for now

 This morning I headed out early to pick up a couple of bags of layers pellets, some petrol for the chipper and a few essentials from the supermarket. The errands took a little over an hour and I arrived home to see that the drainage contractors were doing their best to cover everything with a thick layer of sticky clay.

Whilst the two lads who have done the work have been brilliant, we are not overly happy with the way the job has been designed and costed. A mini excavator and dumper truck have been costed in, but the site is so wet that all digging and spoil removal has had to be done by hand.  Three tonnes of the wrong type of aggregate has been delivered and then removed. The original drainage design included an attempt to get water to run uphill and the list goes on.

Basically the work that has been done has been perfectly good, but that is down to the two chaps on-site. They took one look at the job specification and then decided to make some major modifications, so that the ditches and drainage will should work.  

It is fair to say that we have had some lengthy and fairly heated conversations with one of the managers about how good their on-site team are, but how appalling their scheduling and solution design were.

The ground is so wet that there is absolutely no chance of them finishing off the work to our satisfaction, so it has been agreed that they will leave the garden as tidy as possible and return in the Spring, once the ground has dried sufficiently.  

The main problem is the low berm that borders the boundary ditch.  This is a vital part of the ditch to ensure we have sufficient depth and capacity to handle the run off from the upslope field. Unfortunately the berm got damaged during the excavations and needed to be restored. It is now topped by an uneven pile of sodden spoil that will need to be smoothed and profiled with a mini excavator. Unfortunately that part of the garden is way too wet to support machinery, so it'll be like that until next Spring.

As I said yesterday, "it'll recover ... eventually."

It'll recover ... eventually

 I'm finally recovered from the stomach bug and am now relatively confident to stray further than a hundred yards from the house.

However, a week of living off very limited quantities of toast and marmite has left me with an alimentary canal that needs to be restarted ... gently. I don't think a huge curry would be the ideal thing to eat for a week, or two. Apparently your stomach doesn't shrink when you reduce your food intake. That may be true, but I am finding that I get that full feeling after not a lot of food.

On the home front the drainage work continues and Luke and Aaron are doing their very best to prevent the garden from looking like the Somme. The French drain has now been dug across the back lawn and pipes have been laid and levelled. They even made a start on backfilling the trenches with pea gravel before the gathering gloom put an end to their labours. They should be finished tomorrow, provided that aggregate and top soil deliveries arrive on time.

As for me, I spent a good chunk of the day sawing and splitting logs. It's hard work, but strangely satisfying to see my log pile grow and the sections of tree slowly reduce. We still have a large pile of brash to deal with, but 30% has re-hired the chipper for next weekend and the weather forecast is favourable. It looks like it will be a busy couple of days.

I was going to say that the garden will then be back to normal, but it's probably going to take a while to recover from a fallen tree and the extensive ditching and drainage work.

I did say the garden got very wet

 It was another eye appointment this morning or, more accurately, the rescheduled appointment after last week's screw up. This appointment was marginally better in that it happened, but the doctor managed to already be twenty minutes behind schedule at a quarter to nine in the morning.  

The outcome of the examination was that my intraocular pressure is reduced ... a good thing and an alternative regime has been suggested to reduce the eyelid inflammation.

I arrived home at around ten o'clock and was pleased to see that our drainage contractors were already hard at work with a mini excavator and dumper truck. They are really pleasant, hard working chaps and, as soon they established how wet the ground was,* they decided that hand digging the various trenches was a far better idea.

By the end of day one they had completed the work on the main boundary ditch and dug out the trenches for the French drain around the older parts of the property.

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* I'm no expert, but I think it was the point where the dumper truck got bogged down and the excavator threw a track off ... i.e. "the machines are out of action, lets grab a couple of spades."

A full agenda

 Today was supposed to be a busy day. Our power supply was due to be turned off, in order that contractors could remove a problem tree in the orchard. Also; our drainage contractor was due on-site to start the ditch and French drain construction.

We prepared as much as possible. Water was boiled and thermos flasks were filled. A camping stove was set up in the kitchen and sensitive devices were switched off. We were as ready as we could be.

As it turned out, our preparations were mostly in vain. The tree felling was, understandably, cancelled, as emergency grid repairs following the storm were prioritised. Our power supply was uninterrupted. 

As for the drainage contractors; a large articulated lorry arrived just before nine o'clock and unloaded a mini excavator and dinky little dumper truck. A short while later a contractor arrived and unloaded the mats that are used to minimise damage to the ground. While he was on site, a building supplies truck turned up and unloaded three tonne bags of pea gravel and a pallet of pre-mixed concrete.

And that was it. Apparently a couple of lads were due on-site later in the day to start the works, but it seems that they were held up on another job. It was, therefore, a much quieter day than expected.

I kept myself busy for most of the day with a splitting maul, working on the felled conifer. At the end of the day I had a blister, a sore back and a fair sized pile of logs. I felt reasonably pleased with my efforts until I glanced at the mountain of brash and the sections of trunk and branch that are yet to be processed. I know for a fact that some of that wood is going to be an utter bastard to split ... where's my chainsaw?